


Don't Carry It All

by Shadaras



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Biting, Clothed Sex, F/F, Femslash, Missing Scene, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Dutch and Clara meet up in Old Town, right before the closing scenes of s2. Theoretically, it's to talk. Or at least, that's what Dutch would say. Lucy and Clara may have other opinions about the purpose of this meeting.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/gifts).



> Many thanks for giving me a reason to write Killjoys femslash! I hope you enjoy it. :)
> 
> \---
> 
> _Here we come to a turning of the season  
>  Witness to the arc towards the sun  
> A neighbor’s blessed burden within reason  
> Becomes a burden borne of all and one_
> 
> _And nobody, nobody knows  
>  Let the yoke fall from our shoulders  
> Don’t carry it all, don’t carry it all  
> We are all our hands and holders  
> Beneath this bold and brilliant sun  
> And this I swear to all_  
> —The Decemberists, [Don't Carry It All](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDO4bzFWewk)

The problem with wanting to have discreet meetings was the _discreet_ part, especially when everything had gone to shit and back.

Dutch stared up at the ceiling, mostly because it was there, and a little because turning meant acknowledging the fucking box that sat by her bed. Just where it had been for the last however long; time wasn’t really working properly, with all the revelations and do-or-die missions. Night-cycle ship-time—keyed to Old Town, still—meant that everyone else was sitting in _their_ rooms having their own personal troubles. Probably. Except Fancy, but sitting half-dead in the med-bay was similar.

“Lucy,” she finally said, sitting up. “Can you contact Clara?”

“Of course, Dutch.”

Dutch narrowed her eyes at the ship’s tone, looking up at where she knew one of Lucy’s monitors was. Even if Lucy only looked at her room when she addressed the ship, it still paid to know what angles to block when paranoid. “You already contacted her.”

“Yes.”

“Great.” Dutch slumped back onto the bed. “Has she responded?”

“She will be in Old Town before we arrive, and can meet you there.”

Dutch felt her cheeks tug up into a smile. “Did she say where?”

“She said—” Lucy’s voice changed to what had to be a recording of Clara’s “— _‘You’ll see me’_.”

Her chest ached, and Dutch curled onto her side, staring at the red box with a mission she didn’t have enough information to solve and a vendetta that hurt no matter how she cut it. “Thanks, Lucy.”

“Of course.” The lights dimmed around her. “Sleep well, Dutch.”

Dutch waved a hand up at Lucy, and wrapped herself more tightly in a light blanket.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but it came.

* * *

She left the Royale not long after Johnny did, when Lucy quietly pinged her comm. Pree nodded at her as she walked out, giving Fancy and D’avin a significant look, and Dutch relaxed. He’d be able to keep them in line better than she would, right now; whatever macho bullshit hung between them was much more easily defused or redirected by someone who had once run in that culture but actively chose not to be part of it.

Old Town was... recovering. It was dark, still, and the public screens in their cages kept reminding her of all the fucking shit that had happened. Wherever Johnny had gone, it had to be hurting him even more, since Pawter’s face was there, prettied up and dead, every way she looked. Dutch gritted her teeth, fingernails biting into her palms. If he had just _talked_ to them from the beginning...

“Hypocrite,” she told herself.

Politely ignoring her comment, Lucy said, “Left,” and she turned into an alley she vaguely recognised in the way she mostly knew all the corners of Old Town. If you ran through enough of them on warrants, even the ones you hadn’t specifically been in looked familiar.

The problem with alleys that looked familiar, of course, is that this particular kind of _familiar_ usually meant _dangerous_. Her hand was on her gun without even thinking about it, as she peered around. Clara was very good at what she did, and the particular game of “Catch me if you can” was... well, it was good, and she enjoyed it, but it didn’t help her already fried nerves.

A very deliberate mechanical _whirr_ from the shadows up and to her right captured her attention. Her gun was pointed at the noise as she ducked behind a pile of debris. A second later, laughter rang through the alley, and Dutch forced herself to put the gun away and straighten up. “I’ve had a long few days,” she said, keeping her voice friendly through sheer willpower.

“Good to see you too, Dutch.” Clara grinned at her from the top of a box pile. “I’ve missed you.”

Dutch looked up, trying to keep her face stoic and stern. Her lips twitched anyway. “Have you really?”

Clara climbed down the boxes in a way that looked like it should have resulted in at least one of the boxes falling over, or at least in Clara tripping. Dutch didn’t know what all her mods were, but the bionic ears seemed to have come with a truly remarkable sense of balance as well as enhanced hearing. The reflexes, Dutch supposed, were just as likely to be good training as mechanics. She didn’t ask, and Clara didn’t tell. The result, either way, was fast and fluid and that Clara was standing right in front of her, two bags—likely the longer, narrower one held Alice; and the other held at least one other gun, some food, and whatever else Clara found important—slung over her back.

“You’ve been busy,” Clara said, and reached up with her mechanical arm, the one that seemed human if you didn’t look too close but felt nothing at all like flesh, and rested it with deliberate carelessness on Dutch’s shoulder. “Lucy didn’t even have time to give me updates.”

Dutch closed her eyes, letting her hands hang loosely at her sides instead of curling into fists. The metal hand wasn’t warm in the way that flesh hands were, but the weight of it more than made up for it. She couldn’t look at Clara’s eyes, eyebrows arching and lips curving in a smile that blinded her, and tell her what had been happening. Hell, even when she _wasn’t_ looking, she couldn’t think of how to explain.

Clara’s hand slid along her shoulder and wrapped around the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. Clara’s other hand, human still (or at least, enough that Dutch couldn’t tell if it wasn’t), wrapped around her waist, trapping one of Dutch’s own arms. “Are we really doing this here?” Clara murmured in her ear, breath a warm hiss. Clara’s hair tickled her nose, smelling like oil and ionization.

“Do you have a better place?”

“Oh, like it’s hard to find them here.”

Dutch turned her head until her lips brushed Clara’s cheekbone. Clara tilted into the touch, a miniscule movement that nonetheless ran a shudder through Dutch’s spine. She reached out, finally, to the warm flesh-and-metal connections on Clara’s right shoulder, and ran her fingers along the joins. “Come to Lucy with me, then.”

Clara stiffened. Her hands dropped away, and she stepped back. Dutch opened her eyes to see Clara looking at her, suspicion in every muscle. “You’ve never—”

“Fuck, Clara.” Dutch rubbed her face. “She’s safe.”

She tilted her head to the side, listening to something Dutch couldn’t hear, and then slowly relaxed and nodded. “Lucy says you and Johnny both lost people you loved.”

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Clara grinned, and said, far more cheerfully than Dutch would’ve expected, “Great. Let’s have sex instead.”

“Wh—” Dutch closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _This is not what’s happening_ she told herself. And then she followed Clara, who was already halfway back to the road that had pretensions of being a primary thoroughfare. “That wasn’t why I asked Lucy to get in touch with you.”

“You don’t sound like you’re complaining.” She didn’t turn around, but the way she swung her hips with every step, along with her tone of voice, meant that Dutch could very vividly imagine the smirk on her face.

It was, to be fair, almost certainly the same smirk that had been on her face when they’d parted on Leith after their first meeting. The smirk that had followed a very slow and thorough kiss against a wall. A kiss that Dutch had spent rather a lot of time trying not to think about, and then had been reminded of when _Delle Seyah_ had kissed her, and now—

“Also, Lucy says your vital signs suggest you’re ‘into it’.” Her metal and flesh fingers looked exactly the same as she made air-quotes.

“Really?” Dutch asked the air, not expecting an answer. She caught up to Clara just in time to hear “ _Yes_ ” chorus from her comm and Clara’s chapped and laughing lips.

Dutch scowled at Clara, because Clara was there to scowl at and her ship wasn’t.

Clara just grinned. “I’ll stop if you actually want me to.”

“That’s not what I said,” Dutch said, giving up on even a pretense of decorum. “Fine, yes, you’re right, Lucy knows best, let’s go fuck until I remember why it’s good to be alive.”

“Awesome.” Clara sauntered off at a pace that Dutch could’ve matched if she’d wanted to. As it was, though, Dutch was content to walk behind her and watch the very intentional swagger in her hips and shoulders, and the way her neck arched between her jacket and her short hair.

Lucy clearly knew they were coming and opened the ramp at exactly the right time for Clara to step on it right as it hit the ground. “Show-off,” Dutch told her, patting the doorway as she walked in.

“Welcome, Clara,” Lucy said, either ignoring Dutch or deciding it wasn’t worth responding to such an obvious comment. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“You too, Luce,” Clara said, stroking the cargo bay’s control panels. Dutch overtook her and started heading up towards the common area. “Maybe we’ll see more of each other now, huh?”

“I’d like that.”

Dutch got halfway to taking the comm out from her ear, and then stopped. Lucy was going to be part of this no matter what she did. Leaving the as-direct-as-they-come-for-basics connection was... intriguing. _Enough,_ she told herself, turning down the short halls into her room. _It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before._

Her room was clean. She’d made sure everything was put away before they landed, just in case something _else_ had come up in a terrifying and urgent fashion. Now, it was useful simply for how the door slid shut behind Clara and left no distractions. “Lucy,” Dutch said, without turning. “It’s alright.”

She could hear Clara’s breathing behind her in the silence. That she wasn’t asking for clarification was good. Not surprising, though, with how many mods she had. Dutch closed her eyes, hoping that she’d been right about the comments Lucy had made when they first met Clara, and the way that Clara and Lucy had talked of each other more recently.

At last, Lucy said, “Okay,” and little lights by where her major sensors were came on.

Then, and only then, did Dutch turn to face Clara. “So,” she said, spreading her hands. “Any particular thoughts, or...?”

Clara set down her bags. “You said something about fucking.”

“I did.” Dutch stood her ground, right in the middle of her room, as Clara advanced on her. “There’s a lot of ways to fuck.”

“You won’t take my clothes off.” Clara grinned, and circled around behind Dutch to add, “I might take them off for you, though,” in a whisper that tickled her neck through her hair.

“Then you won’t take my clothes off without a struggle.” The kiss they’d shared on Leith had involved a wall and teeth. And been Clara’s idea.

Clara laughed, arms encircling Dutch’s waist. If she’d hoped Dutch would interpret as a hug, well—Dutch bared her teeth and grabbed hold of Clara’s wrists, stopping them at her hips. The human arm stayed put easily. The mechanical one...

Dutch cursed, and turned with the increased force, redirecting it around her so that she slammed side-first into Clara’s chest. Which was also metal. And also stung, but this way she wasn’t caught yet. Clara grinned at her through the hazy curtain of Dutch’s mostly-loose hair, then bit her shoulder.

Pain laced through her, salved by the touch of Clara’s tongue warm on her skin, and Dutch pulled back, releasing Clara’s wrists to gain space. Clara let go with her mouth, too, but her right hand snatched Dutch’s wrist, human-warm and metal-strong. They stood there, staring at each other, connected by the grasp like the middle step of a dance, for the length of one deep breath or three shorter ones.

She felt like she was vibrating, flushed, and Clara’s sharp-toothed smile didn’t help. Dutch slowly turned left, and Clara revolved with her, until her back was to her bed and Clara’s to the wall. Clara’s fingers moved on her skin, stroking in minute gestures that with a unaugmented person Dutch would take as an opening to break their grip. With Clara... 

Lucy murmured in her ear, “She compensates well for the additional weight, but she’s still top-heavy.”

Dutch smirked, and swept forward until she curved around Clara, matching her posture, and wrapped her free hand around Clara’s shoulder and neck, resting her fingers on Clara’s pulse.

Clara stilled, and then stepped back, into Dutch, a steady increase of pressure until Dutch’s back rested against the wall. “Is this what you expected?”

“Close enough.” Dutch pressed her fingers into Clara’s throat, and the ripple of muscles tensed and released through Clara’s body sang adrenaline and arousal through her body. Clara’s hitch of breath, and the way she let her weight sag against Dutch, just added to the sensation. Her nipples tightened against the rub of Clara’s vest, even through her own top, and Dutch dipped her head to run her teeth along Clara’s muscled neck.

Clara hissed out an exhale, metal fingers tight enough on Dutch’s wrist that she knew they’d leave a bruise. Clara’s other hand reached up and rested oddly gently on her wrist, fingers lax. Dutch nodded slightly; if Clara wanted out, she could tap, and they both knew it. She let her hand slide further across Clara’s neck, then, pulling her closer and allowing her to truly bite, tasting the sweat and faint overlay of leather and oil that was probably scent as much as anything else.

The wall behind her kept them upright. Dutch knew she could take all of Clara’s weight if she needed to, but this particular focus wouldn’t be possible then. She released Clara’s throat and the grabbed her hair before she could move, turning Clara’s head so that she could kiss her almost properly—the angle was terrible, but that didn’t matter. The slide of teeth on lips, half-biting and half-unintentional, was what mattered. The way that Clara surged forward, ignoring the hand in her hair, and turned properly so that their right hands were trapped between their bodies and Dutch was, in fact, pressed against the wall— _that_ was what mattered.

Clara released her wrist, and Dutch slid her hand around to Clara’s waist. All she got in return was a smirk, and then Clara surged forward and kissed her again. Just like that first time, all slow and breathless and teeth biting her lower lip raw and swollen, and Dutch tightened her grip on Clara’s vest and hair, anchoring herself more than trying to pull Clara away.

Then the hand Clara had left between them teased at her inner thigh, and Dutch broke away from the kiss just enough to swear, head clunking back against the wall as Clara laughed.

“If you _stop_ ,” Dutch began, voice shakier than she had expected, but the threat still clear.

Clara said, “Give me good reason to keep going,” and let her fingers dance upwards, and Dutch shifted her stance to a more balanced one without thinking. That was entirely the reason. Nothing to do with spreading her legs and giving Clara a better angle. Nothing about how badly she wanted deeper pressure than the light brush of fingers through her pants, or about how Clara’s lips, whisper-soft on her neck and travelling down to her collarbones, just added to the humming throb growing in her body, dripping down her spine and spiralling out of her cunt.

Dutch’s own hand slipped from Clara’s hair, curling around her neck instead. She slipped her fingers under Clara’s vest and shirt, focusing on the subtle play of muscles as Clara moved. Clara hadn’t yet bothered trying to remove any of Dutch’s clothing, but it still felt like it’d only be a matter of time, especially as her mouth found the slash at the rise of Dutch’s breasts and her tongue flickered through. Without thinking, Dutch arched close, and was rewarded with more laughter that she could feel rumbling through Clara’s chest.

Then Clara’s fingers touched her crotch and Dutch stopped thinking of anything but the buzz of Clara’s fingers. Still too light. Still just making her ache, and not providing any relief. Probably exactly what Clara intended. Her other hand was on Dutch’s breast, now, pinching surprisingly accurately through cloth onto her nipple. Clara’s mouth nipped up Dutch’s chest and throat back up to her mouth, and only when they were kissing again—harsh, biting, gasps and whines breaking through—did Clara’s fingers start pressing more firmly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dutch hissed, tugging Clara closer as best she could. Every bit of her skin felt electrified, something only satisfied with the warmth of another body on hers. And Clara’s mechanical hand was _definitely_ vibrating on its own. She didn’t even bother trying to restrain her instinct to tilt her crotch in closer, let Clara’s fingers spread until the heel of Clara’s palm was resting against her clit. Kissing required too much thought, and the press of Clara’s body against hers was all she could attend to.

Distantly, she heard what had to be the echo of Lucy’s voice in Clara’s ear, words just as clear precise as ever. Clara was listening, adjusting her motions to Lucy’s direction as Dutch held on and swore to the ceiling. She’d given herself over to the way her skin felt too tight, the way that Clara’s touch burst against her, the way that the wall behind her seemed to be the only thing holding her upright.

Clara’s teeth on her neck, biting at the muscle of her shoulder, was a clarity of pain that crystalised the pleasure. Dutch curled into and around Clara, clutching tight as lightning sang through her body, ricocheting against every point of contact between them and building until Clara’s fingers did one last little _twist_ and everything was, for a moment, too much.

Then there was just release like honey, sweet and languid and Dutch muttered “Fuck, okay,” against Clara’s neck, breathing slowly out as her muscles relaxed and she realised how much of her weight Clara was taking.

“You still with me?” Clara murmured, lips brushing Dutch’s ear.

Dutch nodded, squishing her nose against Clara’s shoulder.

Lucy said, quiet in her ear, “I would recommend your bed, now.”

“Yeah, Luce, I’ve got her.” Clara half-carried Dutch to the bed, and they sort of fell onto it, but that was okay. The bed was used to things like that.

Dutch blinked her eyes open as Clara settled around her, and felt her face shaping a smile. “Hey,” she said.

“Yeah?” Clara propped herself up on the mechanical arm, her other hand resting on Dutch’s breastbone.

“We should do this more.”

Clara grinned, and kissed Dutch gently. “Sure, that’d be fun.”

“Lucy, can you...” Dutch waved a hand languidly in the air.

“Yes, Dutch.” Lucy sounded amused. “I’ll tell Clara about the other reason you contacted her while you recover.”

“Thanks, Luce.”

Clara sat up, but she let Dutch curl around her, and her human hand stayed in Dutch’s hair, gently stroking it. Dutch breathed deeply, letting her body sink back into itself, and her mind re-center. _Really,_ she told herself, _it’s just been too long._

Even as she told herself that, she knew it was at least half a lie.

Still, for the moment, she was safe, and two people were watching her back, and she could, for the first time in too long, relax, and doze without fear of nightmares. Clara’s murmurs to Lucy were just another background noise, like the hum of Lucy’s systems and just as welcome.

She woke properly when Clara kissed her forehead. Sleep to wakefulness was just a breath, and she thanked the instincts that told her that she wasn’t being woken up by a threat as she sat up with a smile and not trying to stab Clara.

“It’s been thirty minutes,” Lucy said in her ear before Dutch even thought to ask.

Clara smoothed her hair back. “Lucy says it might be a while until we see each other again, if I do this.”

“Yeah,” Dutch said. She shrugged, hands twisted together in her lap. “It’s the best of the bad options, as far as I can see.”

“Not gonna argue there.” Clara sighed, and bumped Dutch’s knee with her own. “I’ll do it.”

She’d known Clara would. So had Lucy, she thought. “Do your best to be safe.”

Clara laughed, bright and shining, at that. “As safe as you.”

Dutch grinned. “I deserved that.”

“And more, probably.” Clara hesitated, then put her hand on Dutch’s leg. “I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

Dutch put her hand on Clara’s, not quite weaving their fingers together. “I’ll try to do the same.”

“If she doesn’t,” Lucy said in their ears, gentle and teasing, “I’ll scold her.”

“Thanks,” Dutch and Clara said at the same time, but in very different tones.

When their laughter subsided again, Dutch leaned forward and kissed Clara’s cheek. “I should go, before anyone worries about me more.”

“Be well,” Clara said as she stood.

Dutch paused in the doorway, looked back at her—friend? lover? did it make a difference?—and said, “I’ll do my best.”

Then, before she could let her feelings have any more sway, she turned and walked away.


End file.
